Howdy folks, and welcome back. If this is your first adventure with Matt Slade, Private Eye, or if you’d just like to brush up, here’s the rest of the story. Or at least the first 16 episodes. Otherwise, enjoy!
Episode 17
“No sudden moves,” the man said. “Put down the rifle and step away from the dame.”
I stared at the locked gate of the Chestnut Hill estate, the gate that led out into the calm, peaceful world of the wealthiest of Philly’s suburbs. It was in front of me. Behind me was Kavanaugh’s big house, Kavanaugh’s hired men, and most likely Kavanaugh’s hired guns.
“Step away from the dame,” the voice said. I’m contrary, me. That just told me they wanted Claire Brazelton alive. They weren’t so particular about me. I hoped they wanted her unhurt, too, wanted it enough to be a little bit careful with where they slung their lead.
I turned, very slowly, not to startle anyone. Jumpy goons with automatic weapons is usually what we highly-trained professional detecting types call “a bad thing.” Sorry. Don’t wanna get too technical, throwing around fancy lingo like that, but you know how it is.
I didn’t put down the BAR in my hands, either. The heavy rifle, (machine gun, really,) might be my life in a second or two. I wondered if that joker really thought I’d put it down?
I turned slowly, like I said. The gun pointed innocently, as non-threateningly as a .30 caliber automatic rifle can point, at the ground between us. Not at them, but ready to snap up in a moment.
Four of the bastards. I should’ve heard them behind me. City boys like these can’t sneak for anything, even wearing gum shoes on smooth pavement, let alone trying to skulk through the fancy trees and bushes that lined the winding drive. I would have, too, if my ears weren’t still ringing from dealing with the last few of these boys to trouble us. If you ever wondered, .30-06 is loud indoors.
“No! Don’t hurt him!” Claire put in her two bits, gasping with what sounded like terror. I didn’t wanna take my peepers off the goon squad, or I’d have given her the old eyeball. Did she mean me? Asking the goons not to hurt me? Or me not to— Dames. Am I right? What are you gonna do?
Me, I sidled closer to her. Those boys were gonna have to be awful sure with them Tommys to open up now. As long as they wanted her, or something she knew…
Not very chivalrous, you say. Well, first, fat lot you know about it. This bluestocking was a person of interest in an investigation, not my lady love. Second, you’re right. Like the man said, this is no game for knights. I was gonna finish the job her daddy had hired me for, find out who slipped him the poison that was slowly killing him. That meant I needed to stay alive to do it. I also had reasons of my own to prefer staying on this side of the daisies.
“I said step away—” the one a little bit in front started.
“I don’t think I will. In fact, I don’t think we’re going to stay here any more. Why don’t you just open the gate like good little—”
“I can’t let her leave here. You either, wiseacre.” The mouthpiece sure looked the part. Slick Italian suit, fancy pinstripes, hat cocked down over one eye, other one squinting against the smoke curling up from a butt clamped in his fizz. He had another of the Thompson guns K’s men seemed so fond of. One way you could tell there was money in the case, in case the big stone manse set in its own little Yellowstone park didn’t give it away. Those things ain’t cheap.
“C’mon, doll,” I said in Claire’s ear but loud enough to hear. “Let’s split this joint.” I hooked her with an elbow, and started to back away, taking her with me. Back up to the closed gate.
“Angelo, please! This isn’t worth—”
“I can’t! I got my orders, you know Mr. K!”
So she knew him. Well enough to call him by name and ask— That put a different light on things. I didn’t have time to think it over, figure what it meant.
“Yeah, Angelo,” I jeered. “Open the gate!” I reached it, solid and unmoving behind me. The goons in front stepped forward.
If it came to shooting, I had no doubts they’d get me. They’d be almost sure to get young Miss B, in the process. But the way the drive had them grouped together, they were easy meat for the BAR. If a single bullet flew, there was just no way we wouldn’t all wind up as buzzard chow.
I knew it. Claire knew it. Angelo knew it. The untenable position stretched for what seemed a small eternity, but could only have been seconds.
Then the gate started to slide sideways behind me.
